


Union

by Teacake (CowrooNagaysa)



Category: Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Science Fiction, Utopia, idk what to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:32:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowrooNagaysa/pseuds/Teacake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Japan has advanced in technology, blessed with the Government, a system that has ensured peace for years. The Government can provide everything. It can tell people what career paths they ought to take, who they should marry, where they should live, where they should go to school... the system has everything. Except Takafumi Yokozawa has failed the marriage part, having to be Assigned to yet a third spouse, a Zen Kirishima. With his own doubts, having to acclimate into a new household, and the whispers of a revolution, Takafumi is faced with the task of sorting himself out or drowning under the weight of the world and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reassignment

“Are you sure that the Marriage Path is for you?” thick glasses hung from the bridge of the woman’s nose as she studied the man across from her. This would be his third Assignment. The first had been unsuccessful since he had held affections for another man, and when he had finally attained that other man, it turns out that their marriage had been dysfunctional. When they’d gone to the Medical Ward and tested their Compatibility, it was low, and a Splitting had been in order.

 

The love hadn’t been there, though that in itself was why you could not marry a friend. Takafumi Yokozawa had loved his previous husband, Masamune Takano.. The first woman he’d married had been through the Government’s Assignment, yet that had dissolved. The marriage with Masamune had been by choice. He’d thought that perhaps if he married someone by choice, it would atone for the Government’s failure in placing a proper match. Though this had not been the case. Masamune had regarded him only as a friend, and when his old flame had returned to Tokyo, it had all been over, hence the Splitting, hence Takafumi sitting in front of the woman (he could still remember Masamune’s bored eyes as he regarded Takafumi within any romantic setting; a clear sign of disinterest, yet he’d held onto the hope that if he clasped Masamune tightly enough, he would fall in love with him. Human emotion was not so simple).

 

“Yes,” Takafumi answered clearly with a confidence that he did not feel. His hands trembled within his lap. The Marriage Path was simple, you were assigned a partner and domestic bliss was to ensue. Or, that was the proposed action from the Government. The Government Assigning a partner was not mandatory, though most preferred it to socializing and exploring options. Takafumi would have considered such if he were younger, yet he was twenty-eight and without a proper family. He had a proper career path as a salesman, was financially stable, well-respected, yet alone. The solitude threatened to smother him, for it felt as though all attempts of companionship were futile, that no matter how much faith he placed within his own abilities or the Government, he would be alone

 

The notion was terrifying in an era where the Government could provide and man could profit from such perfect order. Japan was in an era of peace with new technology; crime was low, as was unemployment and homelessness. There was no reason that Takafumi should not encounter such joy within a place of paradise, and yet still, he was alone. Perhaps there was something wrong with him, something rather unlovable, something that did not make a suitable spouse.

 

He wrung his wrists nervously, yet his gaze never wavered from the government worker’s. Normally a questionnaire was in order for the Government to best discern how one ought to be Assigned to another, but alas, it was not his first processing, hence the lack of need for such a line of questioning. He was grateful for this, for the notion of having to answer such questions again would have most certainly made his face burn in shame. He hadn’t meant to fail as a spouse twice, but alas, such seemed his luck. Quietly, he struggled with feelings of inadequacy, yet could not voice such. Silently he wondered what a third Assignment spoke to as his character. Those within his building would eventually find out about his third Assignment, for would he not have a third spouse moving into his abode?

 

The first Assignment was not always successful, and was often the most dubious in terms of satisfaction, the second Assignment, however, was usually the most favorable. But that was the issue, those within his building had thought that Masamune had been Assigned to him. No, Masamune had been a Choice, and a rather poor one at that.

 

Takafumi silently wondered how many times he would go through this mortification, the realization that he was inadequate and unfit for romance. He found himself hurtling towards the point of no longer wishing for love in matrimony. He no longer cared if the union happened to be one of convenience, he would stay within it, if only to save face. Such social qualms did not usually matter to Takafumi, yet there was a certain level of shame to be had in failing in a perfect system. Besides, not only was it a failing in a perfect system, but also one in personal relationships. He could not fathom what those around him thought of his character, especially for his being unable to hold a partner down. Perhaps these harsh realities left him bereft, willing to compromise then with an unhappy future. If he was lonely, at least he was going to be lonely with someone else in the room, and although it did not stifle the nature of loneliness itself, it saved face for the sight of strangers looking into his life.

 

They would think he was no longer dysfunctional.

 

“The Government has a suggestion,” said the Government worker. In his thought, he’d forgotten about the processing. “Is the man’s having a child an issue?”

 

Takafumi shook his head. A child? Even better, perhaps then he’d seem functional enough to continue within a perfect society.  _ How grand is Takafumi, _ they’d think,  _ no longer a failure, managing to keep someone, managing to help raise a child, even! _ They’d think he was cured. Perhaps if Takafumi was in the relationship long enough, he, too, would assume these false perceptions of being cured.

 

“The man’s name is  Zen Kirishima, he works in the entertainment business like you do, but instead of selling things, he produces them. He has a daughter, ten-years-old, a Hiyori Kirishima. His wife died of an untreatable illness a few years ago, however, he did not request Assignment until recently.”

 

Takafumi carefully listened to the introduction of the man. It was unsettling, for he’d hoped for a woman, if only because his last relationship with a man had ended disastrously. Masamune had been the only man he’d ever been involved with and it had ended terribly, at least he had dated women in the past pleasantly enough. But alas, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and from the image she was projecting upon the screen, he was attractive enough. His thin lips were drawn into a smile within the profile, messy, golden brown hair tousled every this way and that. He was attractive, far too attractive to Takafumi’s liking, for the more he stared at the man, the more he felt horribly incompatible with him. This Zen Kirishima seemed the sort to have his life together, he hadn’t parted with his wife due to Incompatibility, but because she had died. 

 

Perhaps the weight of the Assignment would have been easier upon him should it have been with someone who had placed themselves within the system for the first time, then Takafumi would have felt like he wasn’t stealing anything from anyone. 

 

He paused, suddenly aware of the coldness of the room, his gaze darting around to study the office’s perfectly white chairs and simplistic decor. His gaze flickered back towards the secretary and he peered behind her to the great window that wrapped around the room. From over her shoulder and the glow of the screen, he could see the hour drawing later. Lights began to glow within the city as the orange of the sky seemed to wash out into a steady indigo. He ought to be getting home soon, he realized, though it was hardly as if he could cut the conference short. He looked towards her once again. 

 

“Do you approve?” 

 

Takafumi nodded, for what further could he say? 

 

“I’ll contact him presently,” she said, with a smile at long last (perhaps relieved that her work for the evening was finished). “I will transfer the information in the morning, should he approve of the Assignment. Not only that, but his contact information, as well. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Yokozawa.”

 

Yet Takafumi rather felt that was a lie.


	2. Cruelty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi Yokozawa meets with his Assigned. The meeting itself is rough and Takafumi grapples with demons of a recently failed relationship and the looming future before him as he sits across from the man who might permanently be in his life forever.

He and Kirishima worked within the same building, yet dealings with one another were infrequent. Kirishima produced novels, comics, and movies alike, all well-favored by the Government. They adored him and his work, his having been hailed within countless places. He was terribly successful, hence Takafumi’s apprehension in dealing with the man. He was terribly busy, if they ever spoke, it had been through one of Kirishima’s representatives. Though Takafumi was head of the sales department within the company they worked in, busy schedules did not guarantee a meeting and if he had ever met the man before, then it must have been so briefly that he did not recollect it. And now they were Assigned to one another.

 

Takafumi woke up early. At his bedside table was a box, seemingly forged of glass, colorful and with a blue sheen. It vibrated insistently for his attention and a pallid hand had lazily smacked the top of it. A blue projection sprang forth from the device, words scrolling across the screen, insisting they not only be opened, but read.

 

Takafumi groaned, hardly accustomed to receiving messages so early within the morning. Lazily, he rolled himself onto his side, sunlight beginning to peek through the curtains of his room. Blue hues studied the text, reading over the information carefully. Kirishima had agreed to the Assignment, a meeting place detailed out below the message. They were to meet at a fine restaurant near the docks. Though Takafumi would have enjoyed helping in organizing the meeting, he could not entirely complain to its arrangement already. 

 

He rocked himself upwards from his bed, tapping the blue box once more so that the screen of it disappeared. It no longer vibrated, content with its message having been read. Takafumi had bought one of the more aggressive models of the box, its purpose to send messages back and forth when one’s communication device was not at hand. It had retained some catchy name he could not recollect, the popularity of the things growing within households. Now they were shaping them like animals, improving them so that they played channels and music and movies and the like. Takafumi had no need of such luxuries, already finding his basic and aggressive one irritating enough to put up with. 

 

He rubbed his eyes, quietly reflecting as to what was to transpire within the day. Work, then the meeting with Kirishima. Should he have returned to his abode after work to change into something more suitable for the restaurant? What was the protocol for meeting someone of Kirishima’s important? Should he bring a gift? He dimly recollected his first Assignment with the woman (whose name had slipped his mind over the years) and yet he could not remember what he had done. The Union with Masamune had been informal, for they had been familiar and knew one another well enough. Takafumi found himself at a loss for what ought to be done, a familiar pain stirring in his chest as he reflected upon Masamune once more. This would hardly do well for him.

 

Takafumi swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding it best he not dwell upon past loves, if only to stifle the pain within his chest, if only to focus on something else that did not make him wish to turn to alcoholism.

 

However, his concerns rested within Kirishima. He knew not what sort of man he was, or whether the Union itself would be successful, or whether they would be able to maintain a certain level of Compatibility that would be socially acceptable. Even if they were together, the exams of Compatibility could easily tear them apart and further shame Takafumi, kept only in a relationship out of desperation and no Compatibility (yet he felt this fear would not stray far from reality).

 

He aspired to be a man of composure, yet it was difficult with his set of circumstances. It was difficult not to think of future failures, when so much could unravel so quickly. Still, he absolved himself not to worry about it too heavily, lest his hair fall out and he give himself some sort of ulcer.

 

His feet dragged along a thickly carpeted ground and towards the shower, hoping that the cool water might prepare him to face the day ahead.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirishima was exceedingly attractive, his features only made all the more alluring beneath the warm lights of the restaurant. Amber hues fixated upon Takafumi, as if he were the only one within the premise. Takafumi was a bundle of nerves, his fingers having curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he sat across from Kirishima.

 

He could think of nothing to say and Kirishima did not break the tension easily, regarding him through half-lidded eyes and an upturned grin. It unsettled Takafumi, for he knew not what the other man was thinking, nor whether he had his approval or not.

 

Desperate to focus upon something else, he studied the restaurant. They had reserved a table near the window, the view being that of the sea. Tall buildings seemed to shoot forth from the dark water, lights adorning the pillars as they gave the black water unnatural hues. Boats rolled across the waves, their lights also dancing upon the dark expanse of the water. Distantly, he could make out important buildings that seemed to tower above the rest, neon lights climbing towards a light-stained sky as not even the heavens could enjoy a natural darkness. Man never stopped creating, man never stopped moving, he found it evident through the state of the bustling city.

 

“I didn’t think they’d set me up with a guy like you.” Takafumi’s shoulders jolted in surprise at the comment, gaze flitting towards Kirishima. He was unnerved by the statement, though it was impossible to tell, especially with the way his brows furrowed together sharply and the way a frown tugged at his lips. 

 

“Likewise.”

 

They sat in silence for a few more moments.

 

“Should we hold hands?”

 

Takafumi rolled his eyes at the devilish grin that played across Kirishima’s visage. “I don’t think so,” Takafumi began, his gaze back towards the window. “I’d rather not, actually.”

 

“You’re shy? That’s cute,” Kirishima laughed under his breath. Anger was already beginning to take root within Takafumi, for he hadn’t pegged Kirishima for the obnoxious sort, yet still, it seemed evident that he was inclined to such a disposition. What a troublesome Union it was going to be,

 

“I’m not shy,” Takafumi bit back sharply, quickly grabbing the menu as he began to leaf through its contents. 

 

Kirishima reached his hand across the table, casually lifting his own menu up with one hand. “If that’s the case, then hold my hand.”

 

Takafumi frowned deeply, having realized all too late that he’d played right into the other’s hands. His grip tightened upon the menu, the leather it was bound within soon left with nail marks from his grip. 

 

“We can at least act like we’re in love,” reasoned Kirishima with no logic at all. His grin widened, eyes peering over his menu at Takafumi. His eyes seemed to laugh at him, as if finding amusement within the other’s state. If that was the case, and Takafumi rather believed it was, then the man was cruel. 

 

“I’d rather not hold hands.” The words were forced through gritted teeth as Takafumi found it difficult to focus upon the contents of the menu. Kirishima’s hand rose, prying one of Takafumi’s hands off of the menu. Stiffly, he laced their fingers together, and Takafumi dared not to move his hand at all, for fear of succumbing to his frustrations and having said frustrations manifest themselves into his nails digging into Kirishima’s hand. If they were to be married, it would do him no good to bring bodily harm unto his future spouse. Even if he wished it. Even if his future spouse had proven himself nothing other than an immature child.

 

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

Takafumi did not say anything, for there was nothing that he could say. He bit his tongue, for he feared saying something terribly rude, something that most certainly ought to have offended the other. Takafumi’s words were often sharp and he chose them to be such, for it did not follow common decorum to tear someone down physically.

 

Kirishima seemed to sense Takafumi’s lack of desire for conversation, the only words to pass them later being their orders for the meal. Moments of silence persisted afterwards, their hands still held. Takafumi found himself unable to say anything, an anger brimming within him at the impudent nature of his spouse. Or, future spouse. It was difficult to align the lines of his thoughts properly. ‘Spouse’ seemed a word fitting of Masamune Takano, even if they were no more. Takafumi still held onto some vain hope, some idle dream that they might remarry (which was unheard of). Of course, such were idle fantasies. Takafumi closed his eyes. Perhaps if he imagined the warmth of the hand holding his as Masamune’s, he could soothe his own nerves.

 

Though this was impossible, for Masamune would have never held his hand for this long. He smiled wryly at the thought.

 

“Do you need a moment?” Such a statement would have been thoughtful under ordinary circumstances, yet the way Kirishima said it was not a kindness. The way he spoke, it seemed almost an insult, dripping with sarcasm. 

 

“No.”

 

Moments more passed in silence, and Kirishima’s next question left a cold weight within the pit of Takafumi’s stomach.

 

“Isn’t this your third Assignment?” 

 

Takafumi fumbled for proper words, eyes wide as he studied Kirishima. His face was flushed, embarrassed by his own ineptitude in personal relationships. He felt sick within that moment, yet could not bring himself to rise from the table. Kirishima did not seem particularly swayed by Takafumi’s display, regarding him still with half-lidded eyes. He no longer smiled, his lips set within an indifferent line, as if Takafumi’s struggles were of little import. Yet still, he had asked, the words sharp as if he’d held a frigid blade against Takafumi’s throat. 

 

“Second. Second Assignment, technically,” he said clumsily.

 

“You’ve had two spouses though, haven’t you? Playboy. And now you’re stringing me along for your third!” Kirishima laughed, as if he found the matter terribly humorous. Takafumi, out of impulse, dug his nails deeply into Kirishima’s hand, the pale flesh beneath him growing red. He would have drawn blood should have Kirishima not moved his hand away. Should the wounds have caused him discomfort, he did not express it, neatly returning it to his side of the table. His gaze hardened, however, lips quirking into a frown.

 

“That wasn’t very nice.”

 

“Maybe you should’ve learned not to make stupid fucking comments.” There it was, the harsh tone most knew Takafumi for. He wished to bite his tongue, to take back what he said, yet he was unable to.

 

Kirishima looked amused at such a reply, leaning back within his seat with an easy grace. “Ah, so you do have some bite to you. And here I thought I was going to have to put up with that kicked puppy expression for the rest of the evening.”

 

“Don’t fuck with me,” growled Takafumi, the flames of his irritation fanning at Kirishima’s goading. He faltered once he realized that Kirishima had sought such a reaction from him. The blood drained from his visage at the realization, to which Kirishima laughed heartily, deep from his stomach, as if he found Takafumi to be the most amusing thing in the world. Takafumi could feel the depths of his shame growing at the laughter. He wished to stand, to leave, to not breathe a word of this, to say he no longer desired this arrangement. Yet, in his position, it was difficult to do such.

 

“If we go through with this, we’ll have to.”

 

“You shouldn’t say things like that in public.”

 

“I’m guess you’d prefer it in the bedroom, near your ear?”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,  _ do you ever stop? _ ”

 

“You never answered my question.”

 

Takafumi gnashed his teeth, gripping the edge of the table. He looked towards the rest of the restaurant desperately, as if hoping for the waiter to arrive with their food and interrupt their rather poor attempts at conversation and socialization. But alas, the waiter was nowhere in sight. Takafumi gripped the table’s edge even more tightly. “I had a wife, then a husband that I chose, and now I’m being Assigned to you.  _ If  _ we go through this.”

 

Kirishima’s interest piqued at the ‘husband’ bit. “A husband? That you chose? Why did that--”

 

“Go further with that question and I’m gonna fucking leave, just you watch. This whole thing will be over and you can go scout for someone else for your kid.” Takafumi exhaled heavily, his gaze dropping towards his lap, head bowing to follow the motion. He gripped the table’s edge so tightly that his knuckles turned white. What was he saying? It was this hostile nature that left him without low, wasn’t it? Even then, it was difficult for him to fathom, for he’d always been the loving sort, once he decided he wished to be with someone, that is. Even with the first woman he’d married, he’d managed to get along with her amicably. Of course, it hadn’t been the deep devotion that had ensued with Masamune, but alas, it was enough for some pleasure within the relationship.

 

Takafumi could not force himself to cough up such affections for men such as Kirishima. There was no way the Union would work favorably, but alas, he needed it to go through successfully, yet there was little chance of it with the way he was behaving. Yet he excused such behaviors, amounting his own poor manners to Kirishima’s insistence of pushing him beyond his limits. Takafumi had expected small talk, he’d prepared with perfect answers, a perfect demeanor, yet Kirishima had dug his hands within his chest and had wrung out every unpleasant aspect of his nature for all in the restaurant to see. He was fortunate that the establishment was relatively vacant, for he would have felt mortified by his own display.

 

“I’m impressed. Most people don’t raise their voice at me like that.” Confusion seemed to linger within Kirishima’s words, having bred with wonderment at Takafumi’s display. This was not going to end well, thought Takafumi then with a vague certainty. They would not marry and Takafumi would still be lonely, but without the presence of another. He knew not if he could move for a fourth Assignment. 

 

“Look at me.”

 

Takafumi grunted, yet reluctantly lifted his gaze towards Kirishima who then, in turn, grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. It was brief, so brief that Takafumi had needed a few seconds to register its occurrence after returning to his seat. He wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand, eyes narrowed as he regarded Kirishima. “What the hell was that?”

 

“A kiss.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I wanted to see what you taste like.”

 

“Don’t make me vomit.”

 

“I’ll hold your hair back if you do.”

 

Whatever crass reply Takafumi retained died upon his tongue as the waiter brought them their food, and before Kirishima could move in for another dig, Takafumi busied himself with eating, acting as if it were the most important thing within the world, his gaze kept squarely upon his meal, never permitting his eyes to stray upwards to Kirishima. He would have to tell the Government that yet another match had been unsuccessful, that they ought to cycle him through the system again. The sense of defeat seemed to overpower the taste and quality of the food, Takafumi left with nothing but a great sense of bitterness at his waning resolve. Should he have been younger, perhaps he would have been more persistent in the pursuit of happiness, yet it is the cynicism of adults that leads one not to press forward.

 

Takafumi had wearily resigned himself towards this. 

 

Which is why, after the meal, after the dinner, after exiting the restaurant, he was surprised to hear of interest from Kirishima.

 

The man had refused to break the date apart, even at Takafumi’s insistence that he needed to head home to feed his cat. Kirishima had implored that he spared a few minutes. The few minutes had turned into a walk to the park, the pair seated upon the bench as they smoked cigarettes.

 

Takafumi’s head was filled with a great desire to escape, to never see Kirishima again, to forget about the entire encounter, to forget about the fact that they were to be married within the first place should their mutual agreement of such even come to pass. Admittedly, if Kirishima said he was fine with the arrangement, then Takafumi would have accepted it. His own desperation disgusted him, yet there was something unnerving about his position within society being so terribly incomplete. He did not mind living with someone who was a stranger. If he needed company, then he could play with the cat. Kirishima and he could feign a loving couple and feign raising a daughter properly and they could save face. It could be so terribly easy, yet even Takafumi knew that if Kirishima complied with this, it would be settling for something terrible. That terrible something being himself. Takafumi knew Kirishima could do better, yet he did not say this aloud, for the man seemed to have a rather large ego upon his own.

 

Kirishima exhaled smoke as he spoke, reclined back into the bench as he stared at the sky above. “I like you. I want you to meet my daughter. Then we can get hitched. If she likes you.”

 

Takafumi paused, taking a deep drag from his cigarette, unable to bring himself to look at Kirishima. “You’re not…”

 

“Not what?”

 

“About the restaurant…”

 

“The fact you’ve got the manners of a wolf? I can look past it. My hand might not forgive you, though, I’m half inclined to make you kiss it better.”

 

“Like hell.”

 

“I said ‘make’ for a reason.”

 

“Back to your daughter…”

 

Kirishima sat up a bit, brows furrowed together as he contemplated a way to introduce the idea of children to Takafumi, as if they were some foreign object. While it was true Takafumi hadn’t much exposure to children, he did not think them something alien to be apprehensive about. 

 

“If she likes you, then we’ll get married,” he repeated thoughtfully. “If she doesn’t like you… well… it is what it is. Simple as that. I’m not letting anyone live in my house who my Hiyo can’t stand. She hasn’t liked most of my girlfriends, maybe she might like me bringing a man into the house, even if he’s got a maiden’s heart.”

 

“Maiden’s heart my ass,” growled Takafumi, exhaling smoke angrily as he shoved Kirishima further away from him upon the bench. He wondered then what the Government was thinking for considering that the pair might be a match for one another. He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, though could find no concrete rationale at the decisions. Perhaps they knew something from his and Kirishima’s records that he did not.

 

“You’ve got one,” insisted Kirishima as he leaned forward within his seat, hardly ruffled at Takafumi’s rough contact. “You look so sad and you’ve got your brows furrowed constantly, like someone’s broken your heart and you can’t get over it.”

 

Takafumi’s shoulders stiffened at the razor-sharp deduction. He exhaled more smoke with a growing desperation, as if it would help soothe his panic, as if the smoke drifting from his lips were his inner demons and that he was ridding himself of their clutches. Kirishima only smiled at him knowingly, moving closer towards Takafumi with great interest. One of his arms snaked around Takafumi’s waist, pulling him closer as he threw both of their cigarettes onto the ground. He spun Takafumi so that he faced him, face near the his as he spoke, softly and with a devilish grin that seemed signature to his countenance. 

 

“Did I hit the nail on the head?”

 

“I’m going to hit  _ you  _ on the head if you don’t let go of me.”

 

“We’re supposed to be super lovey-dovey, right? We’re supposed to get married. Maybe we’ll adopt for kids, get a house in the countryside. It’ll be a cottage.”

 

“You’ve got some pretty twisted ideas.” 

 

As Kirishima leaned his face nearer towards Takafumi’s, he leaned away, a noise of disgust having escaped him. 

 

“What? Don’t kiss on the first date?”

 

“Let’s go with that.”

 

Kirishima laughed, much to Takafumi’s dismay. The man was really rather cruel, especially after pushing him towards such a point of revulsion, yet he made no advances to draw Takafumi nearer, he merely contented himself to tracing small circles upon his waist. Takafumi would have taken further action to push him away, yet he knew not how much further he could continue being rude to the man.

 

“They sent you my address, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I want you at my place at eight in the morning then. You’ve gotta meet my kid.”

Takafumi sighed deeply, though nodded. It unsettled him greatly as to how one positive encounter with the child could dictate the course of his future with another human being. It was odd as to how the child’s feelings to another human being could also direct the course of her father’s feelings.

 

Satisfied with his response, Kirishima relinquished Takafumi, rising from the bench with a pleased expression. “Bring her a dessert and we’ll be golden, oh, and, Yokozawa?”   
  


“Hmm?”

 

Kirishima brushed his bangs aside, leaning over to plant a kiss upon the other man’s forehead. “I know you’re keeping things from me, but I won’t pry. It wouldn’t be right of me, not where we are right now, anyways. But if, or when, we do get married, I expect answers. Guys like you don’t frown because they’re not thinking dark shit. I know your type.”

 

Takafumi slapped the other’s hand away, his anger bubbling forth one more. “You don’t know me--”

 

“You see, but I’d like to.”

 

Something tugged within Takafumi’s chest with such a declaration, yet he wished not to confront it, for risking ire of what he might find. 

 

“Remember:  Eight. Bring desserts.”

  
Takafumi nodded tiredly, his mind already spinning with how he was going to survive a union with the man.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi is to meet Kirishima's daughter, Hiyori, their Union hinging on whether or not Hiyori approves of him.

 

Takafumi spent most of his weekends doing work. Most of his life was that of work, for he never did quite stop. The duty did not end from his leaving the complex, necessarily. At times, he took calls from work, would assist his underlings via several communication methods, and was always quick to relay information should they have required it. So should the weekend have been a time of repose, he did not accommodate it, in favor of remaining busy (work helped to stave off the foreboding sense of loneliness that rested within his chest most days).

 

It was leaving his apartment building for a social call that was most unusual.

 

His cat knew this, rubbing against his legs in concern as he looked up towards his master. Yokozawa kneeled down to carefully comb through the cat’s dark fur. The cat, Sorata, had been Masamune’s at an inopportune time, the ownership having thus been transferred to Takafumi, who had been in far better of a position to take care of an animal. Even after Masamune and Takafumi’s Union, the cat had remained with Takafumi. He hadn’t any complaints in regards to the matter, for at least it gave him something to return to.

 

“I won’t be gone long,” smiled Takafumi, shoulders relaxing around the creature. He’d always an affinity for animals, having found gaining their trust easier than that of a man’s. Men were complicated, they did not mean what they said yet said what they meant. Animals were not so complex, they were earnest, honest entities that Takafumi could appreciate. 

 

The cat meowed his reply, moving towards the sofa to where he neatly stretched himself across the cushions. 

 

Takafumi laughed beneath his breath. With one last look of his apartment, he exited and headed towards the elevator, its bright lights greeting him, as if encouraging him to face the day.

 

His fingers pressed the button towards the main floor upon the elevator’s screen, the soft hum of its music filling his ears (he could have sworn they’d never changed the tune of it in his three years of living within the building). 

 

With each floor it descended, his nerves rose towards his chest, threatening to spill forth from his lips in an ungraceful series of mutterings. Takafumi had managed to restrain such an urge, though it did not muddle the storm of his thoughts. He was to buy desserts for Kirishima’s daughter, and he was to arrive at eight. He’d left the house an hour early, accounting for transportation time and perhaps some unforeseen circumstance interfering with his plans. 

 

Takafumi had well decided that he did not want the Union, yet one often made sacrifices for the greater good. His parents would be overjoyed to hear that not only had he finally integrated into a Union, but that it would be one with a child. Perhaps they would be disappointed that he would be unable to have biological children with his partner, yet the notion of Takafumi remaining with anyone for the rest of eternity would have thrilled them. Takafumi was uncertain of how much he trusted a Government made match, though statistically speaking, he had been the one at fault for his own failures. The first Assignment usually was unsuccessful, so there was often no shame in that working out, for the first Assignment usually transpired in a whim of youth, where the mind was not yet rational enough to handle matrimony. The Government could not be blamed for its people’s foolishness.

 

His second mistake had been in _ choosing  _ Masamune. He had  _ chosen _ his spouse and was left then with a stress and heartbreak he did not desire. Though, rationally, it had been his own fault for his misgivings in choosing Masamune. The matrimony had been doomed from the start. Kirishima, however, was officially Assigned to him. Not in his foolish youth, and not by choice. Perhaps he should have been optimistic to the new circumstances presented, and yet, he could regard it only with a muted sorrow. He expected nothing good to come of the relationship, though such would not have been polite to say, and there was no other soul he could express it to.

 

The elevator’s doors opened and a woman’s voice flitted from its speakers, announcing his destination with an optimism he did not feel. 

 

Takafumi grunted, for he knew it would hardly do him well to sit pessimistically. It might affect the child he was about to see, even, and even if he was not fond of Kirishima, then perhaps he could appreciate his daughter, perhaps then it would have made the situation far more tolerable. He absolved to adopt a better attitude and thus swiftly exited the lobby of his building with a new vigor he had not felt in days.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirishima’s building was nice, though he certainly believed that it ought to be, what with his line of work. It was also a family unit, buildings specifically for those with children, the building itself near schools and hospitals and so on and so forth. If one intended to have a child with their spouse, one could request moving into a family unit, and the Government would provide such.

 

Takafumi was not opposed to having a family and perhaps would have liked one, yet his personal relationships had failed miserably. From an outsider’s perspective, the situation before him was perfect. The Assignment was in different circumstances than before, there was a family he could integrate himself into, and his match was just as successful, if not more, than he was. Yet Takafumi felt he was stealing such benefits from a dead woman.

 

_ “Yeah?”  _ A voice came from the door’s speaker, undoubtedly Kirishima’s. Takafumi peered down the halls of the building nervously, his grip upon the desserts’ bag he’d brought only tightening further (he’d stopped by a patisserie whose sweets had been revered, it had been pricey, yet a part of him was desperate for a good impression).

 

“It’s Yokozawa.”

  
_ “Right, hold on, I’ll get the door.” _

 

“Mm.”

 

The door swung open and Takafumi stepped inside. He left his shoes at the door and right when he was about to question what was to be done with his coat, a robotic figure approached him. He’d heard of such robots, the housekeeping sort, yet he’d never had one. His gaze rested upon the contraption, which resembled something that of a jellyfish, hovering from the ground with fluid movements. Robotic it may have been, it still moved with an unparallelled grace, a tentacle outstretching for Takafumi to turn over his coat.

 

“Coat, please,” it said.

 

“Right.”

 

He passed the garment over, still studying the robot with a great deal of fascination as it smoothly drifted away. Technology was ever-evolving and yet, Takafumi did not integrate himself with it. He’d found it all so unnecessary, though he vaguely supposed that busy men like Kirishima needed such technology to help raise a daughter, especially with his schedule. Something tugged within his chest sympathetically, for his upbringing had been something similar. Both of his parents had retained busy schedules, and although they cared and loved him when they could, loneliness had inevitably followed. They hadn’t a robot within his own household, yet Takafumi gained a sense that something artificial in care must have been even more painful for a child.

 

He could not imagine the struggles Hiyori went through with such an upbringing. It was evident Kirishima cared if he was even taking such measures to ensure his daughter’s comfort, yet to be surrounded by artificial beauty so frequently could not have done well for the human’s spirit.

 

Takafumi entered the main room of the apartment, which was by far more spacious than his own. Kirishima must have been on the couch, for it had signs of having recently been occupied despite its emptiness then. His grip loosened upon the bag he was holding, hardly wishing to disrupt the neat, lace-like handle that had added to the aesthetic of the patisserie itself. Though when his gaze drifted downwards to study the handle, it had already seemed to crumple in upon itself from the force of his grip.

 

He looked around the apartment once more, with its granite kitchen counters and its thickly carpeted floor. A screen took up most of the wall near the front of the room, displaying the news of certain events that did not interest him. A glass door led towards the balcony, which had many potted plants upon it (perhaps a hobby of Hiyori’s). The furniture that adorned the apartment was sleek and simple, yet not to be discredited. The decor of the apartment had a luxurious minimalism to it. Though its appearance simple, the trinkets that adorned it were far more ornate, a nice contrast to what he figured must have been proposed when it was initially conceived. Despite it being immaculate in appearance, it was evident that a child still lived there, what with ribbons upon the kitchen counter and drawings by a child’s hand littering the refrigerator. 

 

“Yokozawa, this is my daughter, Hiyori.” 

 

Takafumi’s attention was snapped towards the hall that seemed to connect the main room towards another part of the apartment. Kirishima smiled at him, his hands clasped upon a little girl’s shoulders proudly. 

 

She regarded Takafumi with large, clear eyes like that of her father’s, and though their hair color and eye color were similar, her facial structure was entirely that of another person’s. Yet the relation was tangible, especially with how Kirishima held her so lovingly and gazed upon her so fondly.

 

Hiyori moved from her father’s grip, smiling brightly as she approached Takafumi. She bowed respectfully before eyeing the bag that he had brought. “I’m Hiyori Kirishima, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yokozawa!”

 

Takafumi could not contain a smile, moving the bag towards the girl, “this is for you.”

 

“Is it?” Hiyori’s eyes widened excitedly, as if it were what she hoped for. “Oh thank you!” She rifled through the bag’s contents, an excited noise escaping her as she saw more and more of the desserts offered, “these all look so good! Thank you so much, Mr. Yokozawa!”

 

“She’s polite,” remarked Takafumi. “I’m surprised, considering who her father is.”

 

“She takes after her mother,” shrugged Kirishima. He seemed to smile more himself in that moment.

 

Hiyori ran towards the kitchen to put the desserts away, clearly excited by her treat. Takafumi breathed a sigh of relief, for he’d always held the opinions of children and animals higher than that of adults.

 

When she returned, she enthusiastically offered Takafumi tea or perhaps something to eat, hardly shy to express her enthusiasm at his company. 

 

“Papa, is he a friend?” Hiyori asked then with an innocence that left Takafumi feeling uncomfortable. He was uncertain of how to tell the poor girl that they had been Assigned to one another. Kirishima only nodded at her question, to which Takafumi was relieved. He hardly wished to tell her immediately that he might end up living with them. Children were resilient, yet it was best to let them find their own methods of integration. Families were precious things, and Takafumi had no desire to rock the balance of the household.

 

Hiyori, to his surprise, grabbed his hand and led him towards the living room, seating herself upon the sofa then encouraging that he sit, as well.

 

Her ponytail seemed to bounce happily with each of her movements and Takafumi thought then the cruelty of leaving such a pure entity to her own devices, without a proper family to call her own. Or at least, a family that was around often.

 

“So, Mr. Yokozawa, do you know Papa from work?” Hiyori let go of his hand, though did not shy away from giving him attention.

 

“We work in the same building, but we haven’t really talked much,” admitted Takafumi. “Your ‘papa’ works on producing content while I just… sell it.”

 

“He’s good at his job.” Kirishima eased in at Takafumi’s side, leaving the seating arrangement so that Takafumi was in the middle of the pair. Takafumi looked towards Kirishima gratefully, silently relieved that he’d put in a good word, even if it did not seem to be much.

 

“Wow! Mr. Yokozawa is really cool then, isn’t he? What made you come to the house?”

 

“Kirishima invited me.”

 

Hiyori peered out towards her father before frowning, suddenly looking at Takafumi with such a ridiculous seriousness that it took everything within him not to laugh. “He’s not giving you any trouble, is he? Papa can be such a handful sometimes!”

 

It was then Takafumi could not restrain his laughter, “he’s been giving me trouble, all right, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, rest assured, Hiyori.”

 

Her shoulders eased at his comment and she, too, began to laugh.

 

“Oh, very funny,” snorted Kirishima. “I wanted you two to bond, but not over tearing me apart! Yeesh, Hiyori, treat your papa with a bit more love, he works hard, you know!”

 

“I know, but you also tease a lot.”

 

“Careful, Kirishima, she’s sharp.” 

 

Hiyori looked overjoyed at the compliment from Takafumi and her posture straightened proudly. 

 

“Mr. Yokozawa, do you know how to bake?”

 

“Hiyori,” Kirishima began. He did not seem irritated, yet a bit concerned at the request he could feel arising

 

“Well enough,” said Takafumi, pausing as he waited for her request to come to light.

 

“Would you mind maybe baking with me sometime? Kurage can bake, but she always does it so perfectly that it takes out all of the fun!”

 

“Kurage?”

 

“The robot,” interjected Kirishima.

 

“Doesn’t she look like a jellyfish?” Hiyori asked brightly.

 

“I thought the same thing when I saw her,” he admitted, recollecting the oddly graceful robot. “But, I wouldn’t mind. I’m not very good, though.”

 

“It’s alright! I’m not, either, we can learn together!”

 

Takafumi’s stress seemed to dissipate and for the first time in days, thoughts of Masamune and his own, societal failures did not trouble him, the light from Hiyori seeming to smother his own darkness for the time being.

 

* * *

 

 

“You talk big, but you’re not very dangerous, are you?”

 

Hiyori had been put to bed and Takafumi and Kirishima stood upon the balcony. Kirishima leaned over the balcony, regarding Takafumi with great interest, as if he’d learned many things about him from the exchange with his daughter.

“I never claimed to be dangerous.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

Takafumi stared out into the night. He wanted to ask whether Hiyori had liked him or not, whether they were going to consent to the Government’s recommendation of their Union, when it was going to happen, who would move in where, how they would adjust to living with one another. Should he have held reservations about their Union, it would be tolerable should he have had Hiyori to keep him company in a loveless Union.

 

“Hiyori likes you,” Kirishima said suddenly, as if he had read Takafumi’s worries clear as day. A knowing smile twitched upon his lips. Kirishima was an intelligent man, Takafumi had decided. Though the man in question was shameless, certainly he had to lay claim to a certain level of brilliance for his success in his career and to be able to speak so clearly and concisely to Takafumi. Or, perhaps he simply wasn’t as difficult to read as he thought he was. “So, when we get hitched, it should work out fine.  _ If _ you want to get married, that is.”

 

“The Government suggested it, so I’m fine with it,” Takafumi replied off-handedly. He didn’t have any other options. Realistically speaking, being married to Kirishima wouldn’t be a bad thing. He had company in his daughter, a robot that could handle a great deal of the housework (even if it unsettled him), and Kirishima had such a busy schedule that if there was conflict in their matrimony, then they could avoid each other through work for the most part. Though they worked in the same building, their contact was minimal, if it even happened at all, and they could easily keep it that way should they not take to one another. The situation had too many advantages.

 

The only thing holding him back was the thought of Masamune, some vain hope that he would return to him, that he would say he loved Takafumi all along. He wanted to laugh bitterly. There was no way that would ever happen.

 

“Are you really? I don’t want to drag you into something you don’t want, it’d make us both unhappy.”

 

Takafumi paused, “no, I want this.”

 

He didn’t feel confident.

 

Kirishima sighed, though nodded, not pressing the topic further. His hand outstretched for Takafumi, carefully brushing aside his bangs. There was a latent warmth within his gaze as he regarded Takafumi, one part interested in him and another teasing. Something constricted in Takafumi’s chest (he thought then that he might need to see a doctor).

 

“We don’t have to rush into the Union right away. I mean, we can go on dates, get to know each other. No one said the marriage had to be immediate, and there’s still so much I don’t know about you yet, _ Takafumi. _ ”

 

He stiffened at his first name being used and shot Kirishima a look, who only widened his smile playfully at his response.

 

“I think I’d prefer that,” Takafumi admitted. He hadn’t felt comfortable rushing into the Union right away, especially when he hadn’t many personal connections with Kirishima yet. At least with Masamune, they’d known each other personally. His first wife, however, he’d rushed into the Union with. They should have gone on more dates, perhaps then it would have strengthened their resolve to be with one another. Regardless, Takafumi refused to make the same mistake twice, hence his inclination to take it slow with Kirishima (though this in itself was not conceived solely of maturity, but to permit his own aching heart to rest before he plunged into yet another relationship).

 

Love in their Union was not mandatory, yet Takafumi wanted them to at least be upon comfortable terms.

 

“I thought you would.”

 

Takafumi studied Kirishima carefully. Yes, he was most certainly attractive and yet, he was vaguely apprehensive. Kirishima unsettled him and reminded him of a storm, that if he grew too near, he would get sucked into something that he could hardly fathom. His smile was warm, disarming, and his words too perfect when he wasn’t speaking suggestively or rudely. To a stranger, the circumstances would have seemed perfect between them, the odds in Takafumi’s favor, yet still he was afraid.

 

Kirishima touched his cheek affectionately, to where he flinched, pushing his hand away as he avoided his gaze.

 

“You were staring at me.”

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Lost in thought, eh?”

“Something like that.”

 

“Oi, Yokozawa?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What happened between you and your second husband, anyways?”

 

Takafumi grit his teeth. This topic again. He was uncertain as to why it held Kirishima’s fascination, yet he wanted it gone. “It’s none of your business!”

 

“It will be if we get hitched.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t want you moaning another man’s name in bed.” Despite the crass nature of such words, Kirishima was serious.

 

“That won’t be a problem because we  _ won’t be fucking. _ ”

 

“You never know,” Kirishima insisted with a tight laugh. It did not sound cheerful, yet irritated, as if the notion of Takafumi’s second husband troubled him. Takafumi could not understand it, nor did he want to.

 

“It’s simple. We got married. It didn’t. Work. Out.”

 

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

 

“Like hell!”

 

“Why can’t you look me in the eyes when you say that?”

 

“This is a stupid topic.”

 

“ _ Takafumi. _ ”

 

“ _ Shut up. _ ”

  
“This is clearly bothering you.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Listen--”

 

“ **_I said drop it._ ** ”

 

Takafumi gripped the edge of the balcony, reminded of his experiences in the restaurant. His breathing was labored as he combated the tide of his own anger. He swallowed thickly. He wanted to punch Kirishima, to forcefully silence him, to bash his head against the stone cold balcony until he passed out, until he stopped running his mouth. The thoughts were violent, yet so was Takafumi’s mood, to be reminded of something so unpleasant.

 

“You’re stubborn.”

 

Kirishima sighed, moving closer towards Takafumi. Long fingers threaded through Takafumi’s hair in gentle and even strokes. Takafumi lifted a hand, as if to grab Kirishima’s wrist and wrench his hand away, yet he merely held it in the air for a few moments, before slowly lowering it once more. His head was bowed, peering down into the city street below as he permitted Kirishima to stroke his hair. He wanted to fight, to argue, yet the touch was so gentle that it would have felt wrong. A part of him was also afraid that the bodily harm would be excessive in a reflection of his mood. Kirishima hadn’t been hostile, anyways. He did not regard him smugly, it was as if it were an attempt at _ comforting  _ him.

 

He could not be brusque where the intention was kind.

 

Takafumi looked towards Kirishima, who was no longer regarding him despite stroking his hair. Kirishima seemed to peer back towards the apartment, gaze distant and thoughtful before he slowly looked towards Takafumi once again. His eyes widened then for mere moments, as if surprised by something before his visage eased itself into a careful mask of grinning indifference. Takafumi was not entirely certain as to what he just saw then.

 

“I should be heading home,” he said at last, removing Kirishima’s hand from his hair. He found himself unable to look him in the eyes. Kirishima did not protest, merely grabbing one of Takafumi’s arms, linking them together as if they were going for a stroll and he was his escort.

 

“Yeah, it’s getting late, isn’t it? I’ll contact your for further details about a date. Unfortunately I’m too tired to think of anything right now, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

 

“ _ Now _ is when you speak politely? After all the sex talk?”

 

“I was raised well.”

 

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

 

Kirishima laughed loudly and deeply. Takafumi flushed, soon sending for the robot to bring Takafumi his coat.

 

The sooner he left, he thought then, the better, for he found himself swept up into something he could not explain with Kirishima. Something that left him terribly uncomfortable. It was a foreign feeling, and one he did not care to inspect.

 

“I’m excited,” Kirishima admitted suddenly.

 

“About what?”

  
“Being with you.”


	4. Audioite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi is spending more time at the Kirishimas', yet finds an odd encounter alongside Hiyori. What it means, he is uncertain, yet cautious nonetheless.

“I’m worried.”

 

Takafumi had taken to spending time at the Kirishimas’. It had been a month since his first visit to the building and Hiyori had grown quite accustomed to Takafumi’s presence. The pair had prepared meals together, watched holographic dramas together, and even danced (albeit rather terribly). His integration into the household had been a smooth one. The Union with Kirishima had not been set in stone, yet they quickly advanced towards such a state. Hiyori seemed to have no complaints in regards to Takafumi’s presence within their lives, yet he worried over how she might respond to his being there having a permanence. Or how she liked cats.

 

At present, he was preparing a meal, giving the poor robot a break, who was idly drifting room to room. Hiyori had made the comment of worry, to which Takafumi paused in slicing carrots. “Worried about what?”

 

She was listening to an Audio (many did not prefer the Holo-programs, finding the stars of shows walking about their living room unnerving, there was always television, yet many still preferred Audios, set within dying ways; Hiyori had always liked listening to Audios while she tidied the apartment) and had perhaps heard something unnerving.

 

“There’s these people,” she began nervously, sitting upon one of the stools that rested outside of one of the islands in the kitchen. “There’s these people… and they’re talking about… things…. like how the Government isn’t so great.” Hiyori chewed her lower lip nervously. 

 

Takafumi hadn’t heard much of the program, having been distracted by the noises in the kitchen as he prepared dinner. He looked towards her thoughtfully, then at the crystal that rested upon the table. It had been something like the contraption at his bedside, yet a more portable, not as homebound version of the thing. Something by the Usami Group, anyways. He could never keep manufacturers straight, and the Usami Group was always well ahead in technological advances on the market. Audioite they’d called the crystal Hiyori had. It had not the capabilities of Takafumi’s box, yet it was to be expected, especially at how small the contraption was (the length of one’s pinky). The Audioite had been something specifically for Audio and popular with those who wished to uphold traditional ways. Hiyori’s Audioite was a rose color, glowing within the center with a shifting frequency and intensity to match the shifting volumes of the speaker over its frequency.

 

He looked towards what he was preparing, realizing that he could leave it be for a few moments to help soothe Hiyori’s fears. He wiped his hands upon his apron, approaching her and sitting next to her upon one of the stools. He paused, listening to the Audioite as it spoke.

 

_ “The Government is not perfect,” _ came a voice.  _ “We must rise above it. The Government holds you by a leash. It controls everything. Who you love, your future, your friends, even children for adoption are processed by…” _

 

Takafumi tapped the center of the Audioite to turn it off. Splinter radio. He began to chew his lower lip nervously in a fashion similar to Hiyori’s. He paused, realizing that it was his place to reassure her. He smiled softly, brushing her bangs aside to plant a soft kiss upon her forehead. The gesture itself was meant to be soothing, and he could hear her breathing ease. Takafumi rarely expressed physical affection, which was perhaps why Hiyori felt such joy at his care then. It was not that Takafumi did not feel love, but rather, it could often times be difficult for him to express. He found it easier, however, to elucidate it to Hiyori, beginning to perceive her as an honorary daughter to him and she, too, seemed to enjoy him.

 

This love, however, came at a cost, came at a paranoia. She had somehow managed to connect to Splinter radio. Takafumi had only heard of such a radio, having thought it to be an urban legend. Most did not oppose the Government, those that were sane, anyways. The Government provided wealth and benefits unto its citizens and its citizens returned their gratitude towards the Government, hardly questioning it, for there was nothing to question within such a perfect system. The Government made living life easier, they carved paths so that those could clearly see their future and destiny. Many nicknamed the Government the Oracle, for it seemed to know all and seemed to bless only the best of fortune.

 

Yet such perfection could only be met with opposition, hence the Splinter groups. Their radios were difficult to tune into, often requiring a right time, location, and a strong enough signal and yet, Hiyori had managed to overhear such talk. It worried Takafumi, for it was something that a child ought to not hear.

 

Takafumi, in truth, had never thought the Splinter groups real, until then. They were real and they were broadcasting messages unto who knew how much of Japan.

 

“These people don’t know what they’re talking about. They just want to cause trouble. I’m sure there’s boys like that at your school, isn’t there?”

 

A light shone upon her face, as if a new understanding had dawned upon her, and she smiled and nodded. “Yes! I understand what you mean, Fumi! Yes, yes, it makes sense…” 

 

The second half of her statement was said a bit more silently, her arms crossed as she nodded to herself, pleased by the logic that Takafumi had provided then.

 

Takafumi tapped the Audioite again, though where he expected to hear the Splinter radio, he heard only white noise, as if it had never been there at all.

  
Unnerved, Takafumi played a new channel for Hiyori, unable to forget about what he’d heard.


	5. Neon Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi is spending more and more time with Kirishima, their having already agreed upon a Union. But on a walk to Kirishima's house, it ends up different than usual.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Kirishima jogged up towards Takafumi, a breezy smiled plastered upon his features. It was false, for it was rather evident that it was false (Kirishima’s hair was tousled in disarray more than usual, and shadows had begun to creep ‘neath his eyes). “There was a hold up, one of the men I’m working with wasn’t feeling very well. It took a lot of persuasion to get him back up off of his feet.”

 

“I’m not upset,” Takafumi replied smoothly. The pair had agreed to walk home together. Moreover, that in itself meaning that they agreed to visit Kirishima’s house. Takafumi staying for a few hours before returning to his own apartment. If their schedules did not align, then Takafumi went ahead to the Kirishima homestead without him to make sure Hiyori was alright. 

 

The ritual itself served to bring the two men closer together. Yet still, there was a wall to the plan itself. Takafumi had been unable to shake the thought of Masamune from his mind, to worry of what Masamune would think of his Union. Remarrying already. The ashes from their prior relationship were hardly cold. It had been a quick decision upon Takafumi’s part. He knew that he should have let himself heal, but alas, he hadn’t, now his heart bled and his chest felt tight with guilt every minute he spent with Kirishima. He did not love Kirishima. Though he regarded him a bit more positively, it was impossible to say that he loved him. Not so early. Even if they had been going on to a few months knowing one another, even if his daughter greatly enjoyed Takafumi’s presence. 

 

“Glad to hear it,” Kirishima grabbed one of Takafumi’s hands, lacing their fingers together in an affectionate hold. Takafumi swallowed thickly, still not accustomed to the physical affection. He would have pushed him away, but alas, such behavior was to be expected, especially since they had consented to a Union. They hadn’t yet worked out the time nor the day nor the guest list nor the locale, or anything that went into a wedding, yet they had agreed. Kirishima had let Takafumi take his time with the whole affair, the pair having not already addressed the Government as to their consent. Once one told the Government that they agreed to the Union, it was sealed from there, the wedding really only a formality and for the family and friends. 

 

Takafumi felt guilt at having to invite his parents to yet a third wedding. His guilt only seemed to fester and grow, what with Masamune and now with Kirishima. He wondered if he was making the other male wait too long, he wondered if he ought to just agree already, for it had been  _ months _ , and it was unheard of that the courting stage of an introduced Union lasted more than a month or two.

 

Kirishima hadn’t brought up the topic of Masamune or Takafumi’s regrets, yet Takafumi could feel that the question was still there, that if he was sure of going through with this all. Takafumi did not love Kirishima, yet he regarded him amicably enough and was permitting his touch, was that not enough to solidify a Union? He kept holding Kirishima to standards of Masamune, yet Masamune had never loved him, so what was there to compare?

 

Takafumi squeezed Kirishima’s hand in thought. The other took this for a sign of affection, and gently squeezed his hand in return. Takafumi was brought forth from the depths of his thoughts, eyes wide as he turned to regard Kirishima once more, his gaze having been poised upon the ground. Kirishima smiled at him brightly. Takafumi looked away, the cavity of his guilt expanding. 

 

He wanted to release contact with Kirishima, yet did not do so, for he was fairly certain that the only thing anchoring him towards Kirishima was their linked hands. He feared that if he let go, that he would run, that he would block all contact with Kirishima, that he would call the Government and say that he no longer desired the Union and that he would not seek another match. Takafumi bit his lip thoughtfully.

 

Kirishima suddenly stopped within the middle of their walk, turning his head behind him briefly before starting back up again. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“I dunno,”

 

Takafumi frowned deeply, speeding up to grow nearer towards Kirishima. “You looked concentrated for a second. Is something wrong? If there is, then tell me.”

 

Kirishima turned the corner ‘round a building, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. His expression was impossible to read. He relinquished Takafumi’s hand, settling for an arm around his waist as he drew him nearer.

 

“We don’t need to be this close!”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Something was wrong, yet Kirishima was not telling him a thing. Takafumi leaned in near Kirishima’s ear, lips growling against it in irritation. 

 

“What the fuck is goin’ on?”

 

“I want to take a different route than usual.”

 

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

 

“Keep growling in my ear like that and we’ll have an entirely new problem.”

 

“And just what is that?”

 

“I’ll get turned on and we might have to make sweet love in a back alley.”

 

“You’re sick.”

 

Kirishima laughed, pulling Takafumi along down the unfamiliar route. It was different, that was to be sure. Neon lights that flickered weakly passed over them and he studied Kirishima carefully. It was easier being strung along, for he could see Kirishima better. Takafumi studied the expression upon his countenance, though it seemed calm, unruffled. Takafumi wasn’t entirely certain as to what the other had seen, though they’d clearly needed to move differently. Had there really been anything? Takafumi bit his lower lip nervously, peering behind as well, but he saw nothing. No suspicious characters or robots caught his eyes. If there was anyone there, then it was an average person and even if it was an average person, they did not look threatening, they did not look to be the sort that Kirishima could not handle.

 

Takafumi looked towards Kirishima, his hair illuminated by many different colors underneath the neon lights. From red, to blue, to green. Takafumi had never liked taking the back streets to the train station, yet from Kirishima’s demeanor, there seemed to be no other way.

 

Kirishima squeezed his waist affectionately, shooting him another smile that sent a fire towards his cheeks. Takafumi averted his gaze, hardly in the mood for any of Kirishima’s games.

 

“What did you see? Is everything alright?”

 

Kirishima nodded nearly imperceptibly, gaze straight ahead as they took another turn into another back street. People were growing less and less prominent. More sharp turns were made and they soon found themselves upon a main road, to where the train station and the bustling of people returning from work were more commonplace. They broke through the back alleys as if it were nothing, and Kirishima betrayed nothing about the odd route they had taken. 

  
When Kirishima looked behind him, he breathed out a sigh of relief that Takafumi did not understand.


	6. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi makes a hasty decision.

“You don’t have to be ready, but I was just wondering.”

 

They had put Hiyori to bed. Takafumi was within the Kirishimas’ living room, watching the television idly as they spoke of mundane news. Apparently the Usami Group was to release a new robot of some sort from the Assisted Living brand. The brand Kurage had originated from,, if Takafumi recollected collectly. The Usami Group seemed to have their fingers within every business, but by far that of technology. He could recall no bigger manufacturer of technology than them, and if he could, it was not upon their level, truly.

 

Takafumi fought the urge to light a cigarette at Kirishima’s question. It was a logical one. Kirishima’s arm rested upon the back of the sofa as he, too, regarded the television with the same indifference Takafumi had moments before. Despite the air of relaxation that surrounded Kirishima, he knew that his inquiry had been in seriousness.

 

He had asked about the state of their Union, when they would speak to the Government to confirm it. Takafumi had wanted to stave off the question for as long as possible, though it seemed that was no longer in the proverbial cards, and if it was, time was running out.

 

Kirishima said there was no rush, but even good men grew tired of waiting and despite Kirishima’s insistent flirting, inappropriate comments, and lack of personal boundaries, he was a good man. A good man that Takafumi did not deserve. A good man that did not deserve a prospective husband who had another on his mind. Kirishima had made the joke that if or when they slept together that Takafumi ought to not moan another man’s name. Takafumi knew it had been a joke, yet the more he thought of Masamune, the more he realized what a disturbing reality that it could become. 

 

Takafumi swallowed thickly, still gazing at Kirishima. He fumbled for a reply. They really ought to confirm it with the Government, they really ought to make plans. There was so much that they had to do, and yet, Takafumi was not prepared to make that leap. He was not prepared to commit himself to matrimony, he was not prepared for any of it and yet he had done it before. Why could he not do it with Kirishima? Had Masamune perhaps damned any prospective relationships?

 

“I…”

 

“You don’t have to give me an answer if you’re not ready. I want you to be sure about this.”

 

Kirishima still did not look at him.

 

Takafumi felt an anger boil within him. He thought of Masamune, he thought of his own half-hearted enthusiasm, he thought of all of the blessings the Union could offer, and he thought of the anger directed towards himself for being unable to accept any of it, for being so spineless as to continue wallowing within self-pity that Masamune did not love him. He knew that Masamune did not love him, a part of him had known all along, and yet he still clung to the hope that some bit of Masamune had loved him, that he would return. Takafumi wished to laugh at himself, for it was foolish, yet he could not dislodge the hope, for it fell steadfast towards him. 

 

The anger rose and swelled within him, a conflagration that threatened to burn all reasoning, all logical thought. It was with this hastiness, this anger, this helplessness at his own situation, that he rushed quickly to grab both of Kirishima’s hands. A broken, tired, sputtering determination made him look the other male in the eyes. His hands shook, the television and the other sounds of the household seemed to roar within his ears. He could hear Kurage bustling about the apartment even if she was rooms away, he could hear vehicles pass the streets and distant horns of traffic. The world seemed to threaten him, to press upon him. He could hear the blood pounding within his ears. He needed to accept Kirishima, to throw away Masamune, yet his chest still ached for Masamune.

 

He wanted to push those feelings down, to accept, yet when he tried to speak, he stammered. Masamune’s eyes still haunted him and Kirishima looked at him with surprise. Takafumi needed to say that he accepted, that they could speak to the Government as soon as they were both free to confirm the Union.

 

It was brash, but the entire fucking thing had been brash. He hadn’t been ready to request an Assignment and he wasn’t ready to confirm a Union, either, yet he was going to. Once he could muster his voice, damn it, he was going to.

 

His hands gripped Kirishima’s tightly, his gaze lifting to meet Kirishima’s eyes. He was startled to see how intently Kirishima regarded him.

 

“I… we can… we can confirm it soon! As soon as tomorrow, if work allows it, anyways.” Takafumi laughed loudly and in a strained fashion. His ears burned.

 

What was he doing?

 

He was going to break this guy’s fucking heart for being so wishy-washy.

 

What was he going to do?

 

Kirishima looked happy, pleased by the declaration. He leaned in and kissed Takafumi, knocking him back onto the sofa so that he was laying upon it. Kirishima pushed Takafumi’s arms behind him, releasing one of his hands as to grab both of Takafumi’s wrists in one. His heart pounded within his chest, surprised at the intimacy and possessiveness of the gesture.

 

What was he doing?

 

“H-hey--”

 

Takafumi did not get to finish his thought, Kirishima’s lips pushing onto his, his tongue parting his lips as he deepened the kiss. Takafumi groaned, Kirishima’s tongue exploring his mouth with gusto. His own tongue was stiff, unable to respond as the foreign presence ravaged him. Kirishima’s tongue slid over his own, eliciting another groan from Takafumi that he could not believe was his own voice, muffled, surprised, and vaguely desperate.

 

He needed to resist, yet when he was about to protest, Kirishima pulled away, letting him go, yet still firmly straddling him. 

 

Kirishima looked so happy then, his fingers combing through Takafumi’s hair.

 

“Get off of me already,” Takafumi bit back weakly, attempting to stir a long dead fighting spirit within himself. Kirishima was a damn good kisser. His knees felt weak from the affair and he was relieved that he was already upon a couch, for should he have been standing, he would have sought support to remain upright, and it would have been mortifying.

 

“Sorry,” although Kirishima did not look apologetic, nor did he make any moves to get off of Takafumi.

 

“What the fuck did I just say?”

 

“Give me a minute.”

 

Kirishima’s hands found their way on either side of Takafumi’s face. Though where Takafumi stiffened, ready to resist another kiss, ready to push him away, Kirishima merely pressed his forehead against Takafumi’s with a terrible grin.

 

“What are you smiling about?”

 

Kirishima spoke quietly, humming before speaking as his thumbs stroked small circles on Takafumi’s cheeks. His breathing was elevated, as if he too had been overwhelmed by the kiss. “It took you long enough to accept, I was getting worried.”

 

Takafumi wasn’t certain as to what he was supposed to say. 

 

“I tried to be patient, but being around you is distracting, you know. I expect you to take full responsibility.”

 

“What the fuck are you on?”

 

He laughed and Takafumi flushed deeply to hear such a genuinely happy laugh, to hear such a laugh directed at him, to hear such a laugh that derived joy from his presence, from the prospect of being with him.

 

“I’m happy.”

 

“I can see that.  _ Now get off. _ ”

 

“Just one more minute.”

 

“ **_Fuck no._ ** ”

 

“Come on, you never let me this close. It’s seriously making me happy here.”

 

Takafumi rolled his eyes and looked away. He did not stop Kirishima from wrapping his arms around him, he did not stop Kirishima from burying his face into the crook of his neck. He did not wake Kirishima when he fell asleep on top of him.

 

He should have. He should have been more assertive in their breaking contact, but he hadn’t been. Kirishima had seemed so peaceful and overjoyed at Takafumi’s acceptance. He had even said that he was ‘happy’.

  
Takafumi felt then that he was a truly terrible person, unable to say that the Union had been on a whim to forget someone else.


	7. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi has drinks with Masamune, who opens a wound that Takafumi did not want opened.

“You’re getting married.”

 

The situation itself was unpleasant. He’d encountered Masamune after work, the other having invited Takafumi to a bar. Takafumi had been unable to refuse, yet he’d always been unable to refuse anything Masamune desired. Their relationship had always lacked balancing, from one extreme to another. The fact that the two remained something akin to friends was a surprise, especially considering Takafumi’s messy feelings about the breakup, especially after considering the fact that Takafumi still did not feel alright after their Splitting. He found his thoughts often drifting towards Masamune, but he could not say such aloud. 

 

He fidgeted nervously. The three words spoken struck Takafumi then, the sharpness piercing his heart and leaving his chest constricted in pain.

 

**_You’re getting married._ **

 

Marriage meant that the hope of returning to Masamune was very well dead. Takafumi’s hands shook as he knocked back another shot. It was his intent to project a calm confidence. He was getting married to a good man, and yet, he did not feel rather confident within his decision. Kirishima was far too good of a man, someone who did not deserve a husband who was hung up on someone else, but alas, he and Kirishima had agreed that tomorrow they would consent to the Union after explaining to Hiyori the situation. 

 

“I am,” Takafumi replied lamely. He looked towards the bottles of alcohol behind the bar’s counter. They glinted within the warm lights of the establishment and though there were few people, Takafumi still felt surrounded and uncomfortable. He was all too aware of the man at his side who regarded him with apathetic eyes.

 

Had Masamune ever loved him? He doubted it. If there had ever been love upon Masamune’s part, then it was strictly platonic. Takafumi’s grip tightened upon the glass as he laughed dryly. 

 

“Is something funny?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

Takafumi wanted to vomit.

 

“So, who are you getting married to?”

 

“Kirishima Zen.”

 

Masamune’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before he took another drag from his cigarette. He composed himself quickly enough. The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, one that Takafumi did not understand.

 

Could it be that he was pleased the Union would revoke Takafumi from his side?

 

Takafumi felt even sicker. 

 

“I didn’t think he was your type.”

 

“The Government knows best,” Takafumi replied dumbly. In his mind’s eye, he recollected the propaganda that they spoke as children. It seemed accurate enough, however, for the Government really did provide. Perhaps Kirishima truly was best for him. Perhaps there was something he did not see. They’d always said that fate and destiny worked in mysterious ways, though when Takafumi recollected Kirishima’s jests, he found it difficult to imagine such words intertwining with such a man. Kirishima was an ideal man, yes, yet far too different from the sort Takafumi usually found himself interested in. Their natures were incompatible, though he vaguely supposed it was why they said that opposites attract. Takafumi rather thought the saying was for those in failing relationships that couldn’t accept the truth of its failure.

 

Except his relationship hadn’t failed with Kirishima. It was far too cruel to discount it before it could really start.

 

The man he loved, however, was at his side, smoking a cigarette. The man he loved was regarding him with amusement. The man he loved had dark hair, brown eyes, and sometimes didn’t sleep enough, yet Takafumi did not love him any less. It was terrible that Takafumi did not receive what he loved most, yet this world was cruel. He wished to laugh again, finding humor in his misfortune and a bitterness he was uncertain on how to convey.

 

Takafumi sloshed the ice around in his drink, listening to it collide against the glass.

 

“That’s true.”

 

Moments passed in silence, before Masamune spoke once more. “You know, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

 

Shock flooded Takafumi’s mind, unable to form coherent thought. His eyes widened and he looked away, attempting to contrive a suitable response, but alas, nothing came. He had been completely blindsided by Masamune’s proclamation. “I-is that so?”

 

“You’re not a bad husband, Yokozawa. We just weren’t right for each other.”

 

“Oh, and Onodera is?”

 

They both paused. Takafumi bit his lower lip. He hadn’t meant to let the comment slide. Ritsu Onodera had been an old flame of Masamune’s, an old flame that had returned within his life, an old flame that had pushed their Splitting, an old flame that had stolen Masamune, an old flame that he entertained the thought of crushing ‘neath his heel. 

 

“Masamune,” Takafumi quickly corrected himself. He waved for another drink, downing it quickly before speaking clearly. “I… that was out of turn.”

 

“Listen, Yokozawa…”

 

“Forget it.”

 

“Yokozawa…”

 

“You don’t have to spill your guts to me about our failed Union, Masamune. In fact, I’d really fucking rather  _ you didn’t. _ ”

 

Masamune clearly did not know what to say, and only grabbed his things. Takafumi was about to protest though was swiftly cut off. Masamune paid for their drinks and paused, looking down upon Takafumi thoughtfully, as if he did not want to say anything more to offend him, to rile him up, so to speak. “I hope this one finally works out.”

  
It was all he said before departing.


	8. Haste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi isn't sure about what he's doing anymore.

“I’m sorry for calling so late.”

 

Takafumi was not drunk, but he wasn’t sober either. His head was still buzzed after drinking with Masamune. He’d waited outside of the bar for Kirishima to arrive, who’d stepped out of his car to greet Takafumi. It was late within the night and Takafumi felt guilt at having stolen Hiyori’s father from her at such a late hour, but he rationalized that she was already in bed and thus could not notice his absence.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kirishima waved a hand dismissively. “You alright?”

 

“Y-yeah, just a bit buzzed. Didn’t get completely shit-faced though.”

 

“It’d be a mess if you had.”

 

Kirishima stepped closer in concern as Takafumi pressed his back against the wall. His head hurt, his heart hurt, everything seemed to hurt. Masamune had hoped that the Union with Kirishima would be a success. Of course he wanted it to work out, of course he wanted to be rid of Takafumi, of course he no longer wanted to be worried about another man pining for him so he could be free to pursue whom he’d always loved most. Takafumi trembled slightly, though hated himself for it, self-deprecation taking root within his mind. He was an idiot. He was a fucking idiot for thinking that any of it would work out with Masamune. He was an idiot for accepting the Union with Kirishima, he was an idiot for even wanting another Union in the first place.

 

Yet he could not say these things, he could only put on an intimidating and brave face so his subordinates did not know better. Takafumi scared most people. He was tall, often with a mean expression and an unwillingness to back down from a challenge, hence his cowardice in intimate and personal matters disgusted him. It was pathetic of him to cower and tremble, it was pathetic of him to let Masamune bother him so deeply, it was pathetic of him to get married to fill in the gaps of his own ineptitude. It was all horribly pathetic.  _ He  _ was pathetic.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Perhaps Takafumi was still buzzed, yet his hands outstretched to grab the front of Kirishima’s shirt, drawing him nearer. Kirishima looked startled, yet Takafumi did not care. He forced their lips together, tongue pushing past Kirishima’s lips as he kissed him sloppily and desperately. He needed to forget, he needed to forget everything. 

 

Kirishima’s hands found their way upon Takafumi’s waist as he returned the kiss with a fervor. A sound was made, though from whom, Takafumi could not tell. His hands shifted towards Kirishima’s hair, fingers getting tangled within brown locks as he pressed himself firmly against Kirishima. 

 

Kirishima’s hands slid up Takafumi’s shirt, nails grazing his hips before his hands worked up further, dangerously near his chest.

 

He broke the kiss for air, shocked yet indifferent to his own display, to Kirishima touching him so intimately.

 

“My apartment,” Takafumi breathed out shakily. “My fucking god drive me to my apartment.”

 

Kirishima looked just as disturbed yet pleased by the display, only reluctantly breaking contact with Takafumi.

  
“You’ve got it.”


	9. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi has made a mistake the night before, and is slowly beginning to realize the seriousness of his involvement with the Kirishimas. With the acceptance of their Union fast approaching in mere hours after informing Hiyori, Takafumi is beginning to feel weak.

Takafumi felt a warmth against his back and around his waist. He lazily blinked sleep from his eyes, the darkness of his room coming into focus. He could make out the box at his bedside. It had no annoying messages to display at present, glowing a faint blue. Sunlight threatened to spill from the windows, stopped only by the curtains yet it poured from the sides. 

 

He closed his eyes, wanting only a few more moments at the uncharacteristic peacefulness. He would have to question the foreign warmth and presence and for a second, he did not wish to do so. It was all too pleasant, too unfamiliar, no one he had ever been with had held him within such a manner. It was difficult not to get swept into the gesture, to not find pleasure within it. He felt safe for a moment, comfortable, as if someone’s bare chest against his bare back was normal and natural, as if someone’s ankles tangled within his was as it should have been. 

 

Though Takafumi knew this not to be true.

 

He disentangled himself from another’s grip and turned upon his side to see who it was. Surprise smothered him quickly to see that it was Kirishima, who was just as comfortably asleep as he had been moments ago. Takafumi sat upright quickly, reflecting upon his thoughts before recollecting some passing notion of nudity. He gripped the edge of the covers, lifting them to see that they were, indeed, completely naked. A pain flared up within Takafumi’s hips and legs, as if laughing and to further rub salt within the proverbial wound, as if to further remind him of the night’s activities. 

 

Hiyori, what about Hiyori? Fooling around the night prior had not been part of the plan. They still needed to talk to Hiyori about their Union, they still needed to confirm the Union, there was still so much that they needed to do and yet they were naked, and yet they were in a situation Takafumi had not wanted. He’d had sex with Kirishima.

 

A sickness sat firmly within his stomach. He truly was terrible.

 

He attempted to recollect the night before, yet it all seemed difficult to piece together. He remembered being pushed onto a bed and that was the extent of it all. He bit down upon his lower lip in contemplation and disgust. Of course this would happen to him. He’d needed to forget and apparently forgetting had meant having intercourse with Kirishima.

 

He truly was the worst.

 

Had he moaned Masamune’s name in bed?

 

Had he begged for Kirishima to take him?

 

Had he cried?

 

All seemed pathetic and he mentally punched himself for even considering such things, even though they were very well possible. 

 

“Quit movin’ around so much…” Kirishima yawned lazily, golden brown eyes blinking open to study Takafumi. His breath caught in his throat from what Takafumi could tell, and Kirishima smiled. “Whoa… sorry.... you really are easy on the eyes when you’re not scowling, you know that?”

 

Takafumi was at a loss for words. He quickly moved to get out of the bed, though from where he tried to stand, he quickly collapsed onto his knees. A noise of both shame and indignation escaped him, revolted by his own shameful display.

 

Kirishima swung his legs over the side, moving towards Takafumi. He felt Kirishima’s arms hook under his as he helped him to his feet. Kirishima quickly changed their positions, moving so that Takafumi rested against him, one arm around Takafumi’s shoulders and another his waist.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Do I fucking look okay?”

 

“Point taken.”

 

Takafumi’s legs and hips protested at his attempts to stand upon his own, yet he was stubborn, biting back a whine of pain. In truth, Takafumi was not accustomed to being on the receiving end in bed. The notion of it was terrifying and he wished no longer to think of how Kirishima had “stuck it in”, so to speak. He shuddered in horror at the notion.

 

“Let me go already, damn it!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kirishima let out a well-natured laugh, relinquishing his grip upon Takafumi. “Wanna take a bath together?”

 

Takafumi blushed deeply to the point that it crept upon his ears. “Like hell!”

 

With such a declaration, he stomped towards the shower.

 

Already he regretted having sex with Kirishima. The notion of it bothered him, yet there was nothing he could do. Technically, it was natural, since the two were to confirm their Union, yet still, it did not sit right with him, especially the circumstances of it all. He’d been buzzed and hurt by another, he’d most likely agreed to sex with Kirishima to forget Masamune.

 

If Takafumi had done or said anything embarrassing the night prior, then Kirishima certainly did not betray such. Though the notion was comforting, he still felt wrong for such intimate contact at all. 

 

He’d wanted to stave off any physicality in their relationship for as long as possible, though it seemed that such was no longer an option.

 

He really fucked up this time.

 

Takafumi stood underneath the shower and turned on the water full throttle, the container of it shifting so that its door closed electronically. Completely encased by glass and with the water roaring in his ears,

 

Takafumi screamed.

 

* * *

 

 

Hiyori studied both men across from her as they sat upon the other side of one of the kitchen’s islands. Kirishima held up Takafumi’s hand with a smile and Hiyori clasped her own together in delight. She smiled widely, to Takafumi’s immense relief.

 

“So you’re going to be living with us?” Hiyori’s eyes were wide, yet she was delighted. “Papa, is he going to wear a dress at the wedding?”

 

“I’d certainly like it--”

 

“ **_Quiet._ ** ”

 

Hiyori hadn’t seemed at all perturbed by their relationship. They had kept it quiet so as to not topple the balance of her world. They had worried that she would reject the idea regardless of whether she liked Takafumi or not, though she seemed all too pleased by his permanence in her life. She gazed upon him so earnestly and with so much joy, that Takafumi looked away.

 

He could not handle it, truly. He could not handle the purity of her joy. To think, he’d had sex with her father and had returned home with him the next morning. She hadn’t seemed upset by his return from leaving the night prior, in fact, she simply seemed happy that he had returned at all and hadn’t gone to work (not that it was likely, since he and Takafumi had both taken the day off).

 

“I’m glad you’re staying with us,” she turned her attention back towards Takafaumi.

 

He wanted to thank her for letting him stay, though could only offer a small, strained smile. The more she spoke, the more he accepted the seriousness of the Union. He was getting terribly involved with the Kirishimas, and it frightened him.

 

They deserved better than him. He wanted to protect them, yet he felt weak by his own thoughts. Shakily, he patted Hiyori’s head with another forced smile. 

 

“I’m glad I’m staying, too.”

  
And Takafumi would have meant it, should he have not known the depths of how truly terrible he was.


	10. Sealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi and Kirishima have accepted their Union and are to go out to dinner. Takafumi is fighting the rising tide of his own feelings for Kirishima, confused by them, yet not at all angry about them, either.

Takafumi stood at Kirishima’s side. They were in front of a perfectly polished desk in the front of one of the Government’s buildings. Pristine, white floors were beneath their feet and there was a fountain within the center of the room, messages being projected upon the glimmering yet constant flowing water. It was extravagant yet modern, a testament to all the Government had accomplished and would continue to accomplish with its hard-earned prosperity. Takafumi peered behind him towards important looking people pushing past the automatic doors, speaking into their sleeves with their communication devices or hurrying towards a meeting. 

 

He distracted himself with people-watching while Kirishima confirmed with the woman behind the counter that the Assignment had been accepted and that they had agreed to a Union. Takafumi hadn’t said anything and he’d even told Kirishima before their entering that he’d rather the other male do most of, if not all of the talking. Whenever the woman behind the counter looked inclined to speak to him, Takafumi always acted as if he had something else that had his attentions more than the prospect of conversation with her. 

 

Takafumi felt a familiarity within the situation. He hoped that this would be his last time confirming a Union. Each minute they spent longer within the building was another minute that Takafumi’s regrets threatened to smother him. 

 

He looked towards Kirishima, who was smiling proudly as he relayed the information to the woman. Takafumi released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Kirishima’s joy at their Union gave him a confidence and strength to proceed. A confidence that made him believe that just maybe the longer he spent with him, the more he would fall in love with him and soon Masamune would be nothing more than a memory, a ghost of a man.

 

“You read to go?” Kirishima placed an arm around Takafumi’s shoulders, smiling at him brightly.

 

A heat rushed to Takafumi’s features and he nodded, grumbling as he looked away. Kirishima’s smile was most disarming and often left Takafumi at a loss on how to properly respond to such a facial expression. He leaned against Kirishima slightly, attempting to relax his own, stiff posture. It would do him no good to be so calloused towards Kirishima, though displaying affection had never been Takafumi’s strongsuit and even accommodating it felt inherently wrong, as if he were attempting to grind his own disposition into the ground underneath his heel.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kirishima pressed his lips to Takafumi’s cheek, whose posture only stiffened more despite his attempts at relaxation. His face grew terribly red, to where Kirishima laughed. Takafumi felt a great urge to drag the man out by his ear, though did not do so, permitting himself to be led outside of the building. 

 

“I told Kurage we might be home late,” Kirishima said, removing his arm from Takafumi’s shoulder and instead, exchanging the contact for hand-holding. He squeezed Takafumi’s hand lovingly, a pleased sigh escaping him. “I want to go out to dinner, and don’t you say ‘no’, ‘cause I already made reservations, aaaaaaand it would be embarrassing if I were at a nice restaurant eating by myself.”

 

Takafumi sighed, “you could’ve given me a warning. I’m not dressed for this shit.”

 

“Noted. We can always swing by your apartment, you know.”

 

“You’re not dressed for it either.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we can meet up later then. But… I really don’t want to leave you.”

 

“We’re getting fucking married, you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon enough anyways.”

 

“Fair point.”

 

Kirishima hesitated, though let Takafumi go. 

 

“I’ll send you the details for dinner, so don’t you fret, darling!”

 

“Please don’t call me that.”

 

“What? We’re supposed to be super lovey-dovey now that we’re getting married!”

 

“Don’t get too hopeful.”

 

Although, Takafumi was not as bothered at being called ‘darling’ as he should have been.

 

* * *

 

 

“I made it in time but you should have _ seen _ the way they looked at me!” Kirishima put down his drink, sighing heavily as he recounted a rather embarrassing story from his job.

 

Takafumi couldn’t help but laugh, smiling as he regarded his hands. He was far too embarrassed to meet Kirishima’s gaze, to let him know that he had laughed, that he was enjoying their dinner date within the restaurant. He had grown accustomed to Kirishima’s presence and perhaps it showed in his growing ease around the man. Though when he looked up, Kirishima was regarding him intently with a slight frown against his lips.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You didn’t tell me you had a cute laugh.”

 

He coughed awkwardly, waving a hand dismissively at Kirishima’s comment. He would have sworn at the other, to tell him to stop, yet they were within a public setting and such would hardly be appropriate, so he settled for a sharp glare. 

 

“It’s not cute.”

 

“I think it is.”

 

“You’re crazy.”

 

“Crazy for you.”

 

“Don’t say such sentimental bullsh-- **_stuff_ ** … at the table, I’m trying to eat.”

 

“I know, which makes this all the better.”

 

The night passed within a similar fashion, going back and forth, telling stories and jokes. Takafumi was uncertain as to whether it was the wine that had relaxed him, or if it was Kirishima’s bare pleasure at having Takafumi near him. Kirishima played the fool, the flirt, the insufferable, yet he truly was a good man and Takafumi found himself warming up to the notion of marrying him. A Union with Kirishima did not sound terrible and although Takafumi acted as if he’d rather be anywhere within the world rather than near Kirishima, this could not be further from the truth.

 

They held hands over the table, Takafumi uncertain as to what he should say. Kirishima contented himself with admiring Takafumi from across the table, a thumb swiping affectionately over the top of his hand. 

 

The gesture would have rendered a poor reaction from Takafumi, yet he was growing accustomed to the contact, accustomed to Kirishima’s manner of conducting himself.

 

He looked towards Kirishima and was struck with how lovingly he seemed to gaze upon him. There was no lust within his eyes, no teasing, nothing to indicate his underlying, cruel nature when it came to his jokes. It unsettled Takafumi, for Kirishima regarded him so honestly.

 

In that moment, he could only focus upon Kirishima’s loving expression. The glitz and glamour of the restaurant slowly faded and the chatter of other patrons and the clinking of glasses also grew distant. He no longer paid any mind to the live band or the waiters that bustled by. He could only focus upon Kirishima, who seemed pleased to have Takafumi’s attention.

 

Something stirred within Takafumi’s chest, his pulse quickening. His grip tightened upon Kirishima’s hand.

 

Kirishima leaned in and his heart beat faster, leaning in as well. 

 

“Kirishima, I…”

 

“What is it?”

 

His face was unbearably near Takafumi’s, centimeters apart from a kiss. Takafumi felt dizzy, his heart racing. Was it the wine? Or simply Kirishima alone? 

 

His hand cupped one of Takafumi’s cheeks, a thumb sliding along his lower lip as he studied Takafumi intensely and intently. They were going to kiss, yet Takafumi felt no hesitation. He wanted it to happen. Normally he would have dreaded such contact yet he wanted Kirishima then. He wanted to go home with Kirishima, he wanted to greet Hiyori with Kirishima, he wanted them to be a family. It was such a jumble of thoughts and something that frightened him, something unexpected. Perhaps the wine had altered his mental state more than he would have liked. 

 

“Kirishima, I really…”

 

_ Want to be with you. I want to try falling in love with you. _

  
But before Takafumi could say anything, a scream pierced the air.


	11. Splinters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi and Kirishima's date has been interrupted by shooters. The pair must survive the carnage of the restaurant and make it home to Hiyori.

Kirishima released Takafumi quickly and pushed the table onto its side, getting behind it before forcing Takafumi to join him. Another scream was heard, as was the sound of gunfire. Takafumi’s breath caught within his throat as the other patrons began to scream, seemingly trampling over one another to escape the establishment.

 

Takafumi heard more gunfire and a particularly loud scream soon accompanied by a _ thump! _  He gagged reflexively, looking towards Kirishima with wide eyes, who only made a motion that Takafumi ought to keep quiet. Of course, it was common sense to remain quiet, to remain hidden from the assailant, yet Takafumi still felt his legs itch to run, to run away from the scene.

 

He heard cries for help and more gunfire. More bodies seemed to crash against the ground, except Takafumi could not see them, too frightened to peer around the table. The lights went out suddenly and Takafumi’s shoulders jolted. Kirishima grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together in a near death-grip as he slowly peered around the table. 

 

They’d taken a table near the wall, their backs pressed against it. They were within an advantageous position, well-concealed, yet still vulnerable in case the shooter decided that they wanted to peer around the back of the restaurant.

 

Though the lights were off, the city lights from outside still pressed illumination into the restaurant. Kirishima squinted into the darkness, clearly attempting to make out any shapes. Takafumi trembled, unable to will himself the same level of bravery. He heard windows break as well as indistinct voices.

 

The screams of other patrons were gradually growing quiet, perhaps with the steady death of them all. Takafumi felt as if he were going to vomit. He pressed closer towards Kirishima, who had seen it as useless to try and make out what loomed within the darkness. Kirishima pulled Takafumi closer towards him, barely breathing. Takafumi buried his face within the crook of Kirishima’s neck.

 

Takafumi could make out the sound of footsteps approaching where they were. Whomever it was, they’d stopped walking for a second, looking around, as if listening for their next victim to shoot. Takafumi trembled even further. He wished to cry out, to fight, yet he was unarmed and at a disadvantage. It was hardly as if he could risk Kirishima, as well, so there he sat, ears straining to make out anything that the criminal might have said.

 

A second person seemed to enter, speaking to the first. “Sparrow,” said the second individual. “The police are coming.”

 

It was difficult to make out the first person’s reply, for they spoke quietly and patrons still screamed in escape. Takafumi could hear cries from passerbys outside, as well. He swallowed thickly, pressing as close as he possibly could against Kirishima. Though his partner looked collected, he trembled, as well. Perhaps he feared not seeing Hiyori. Takafumi held the same fear within himself, picturing the poor girl truly without a family.

 

Why did this have to happen tonight of all nights? Was his fortune truly so terrible?

 

He bit down upon his lower lip though heard one of the thugs yell ‘police’. It seemed as though they had arrived, the chimes of their vehicles resounding clearly. 

 

“Splinters,” came the police from outside. They were projecting their voices from a device Takafumi could not imagine.

 

“Splinters?” Takafumi said softly beneath his breath, barely the beginning of a word. Kirishima pressed a shaking finger to his lips, tightly squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

Takafumi nodded silently, closing his own eyes. He did not wish to die, not within such ghastly circumstances, anyways.

 

“Leave the premise immediately and turn yourselves in or we will be forced to use lethal force,” came the voice of the officer. The Splinter and the one named Sparrow swore, their footsteps growing more distant as they exited the room. 

 

They sat within a few minutes of silence before the gunfire suddenly erupted once more, bright orange lights illuminated the establishment as well as blue. The Splinters’ weapons against the police’s weapons, most likely. Takafumi held Kirishima’s hand even more tightly, the screams of the people growing louder. More patrons died, he could tell this by their final cries. Splinters died as well, he assumed, though perhaps some officers died. It was difficult to discern whose screams were which, though the screams of dying patrons were by far the most obvious, their having been caught within an unfortunate crossfire.

 

Kirishima peered around the table once more, his hair set ablaze within the orange light caused by the weapons. He looked towards Takafumi, eyes also lit with the same fire from the lights. Takafumi shuddered, for there was something unsettling about seeing Kirishima in such a state. As if they’d baptized him in flame.

 

“They’re down the hall,” he said quietly. He looked behind him, “the window over there is shattered. We move out through there, quickly. God damn it….this is a fucking mess.”

 

Kirishima rose to his feet, helping Takafumi up. 

 

He looked around the room, their flower vases shattered, food left to stain the floors, tables turned and knocked over. He nearly vomited at the sight of the corpses that littered the floor. He looked towards Kirishima, eyes wide. 

 

Kirishima looked just as frightened as he did, though it was evident he was putting on a brave face for Takafumi’s sake. Kirishima led Takafumi through the darkness until they were greeted with the window Kirishima had proposed.

 

The sounds of carnage still filled his ears, anguished cries from the opposing forces. Takafumi quickly swung a leg over the windowsill and neatly pushed himself from it. His hands cut upon the glass, stinging from the lacerations, yet he preferred a few hand slices to that of losing his life.

 

Kirishima followed after him and the two took towards the alleyway behind the restaurant.

  
They walked at first, though soon broke into a dead sprint.


	12. Repose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've arrived at Kirishima's apartment, tired, and attempting to figure out just what had happened within the restaurant and why. Takafumi is troubled, realizing how bad things could have been back there.

Kurage had put Hiyori to bed, which was fortunate, for the poor girl would have certainly had a heart attack at the sight of two of her most important people within such a disheveled state.

 

Kurage held Takafumi’s hands as he sat upon the Kirishimas’ couch. Her buoyant arms somehow seemed to anchor his in place, the underside of them feeling as if they were made of a smooth, jelly-like substance. She applied medical treatment unto him with a third arm, a light pulsating through her center as she spoke.

 

“Are there any other injuries that I should attend to, Mr. Yokozawa?”

 

“N-no.”

 

“Then I shall work on repairing Mr. Kirishima. Please use the shower, I have set out clothes for you after you finish.”

 

Takafumi nodded gratefully as the peculiar robot relinquished his arms. He moved towards Kirishima, running his fingers through the other man’s hair as a soft sigh escaped his lips. Kirishima had his head upon the backrest of the sofa, slumped within a most sorry state. He’d received a laceration upon his thigh and one of his hands, though seemed none the worse for wear. It relieved Takafumi, for he would have hated it should Kirishima have been horribly injured by the ordeal.

 

Takafumi went towards the shower as instructed, permitting it to encase him after stripping. He directed that the water be set to a warm temperature. He did not lather himself in soap at first, merely standing underneath the warm water as he allotted himself the pleasure of feeling the warm water slide across his frame. His shoulders relaxed, only to tense up once more as he relinquished a choked sob. His knees felt weak, the after effects of the adrenaline. His head was bowed underneath the shower’s head  and his palms flew towards his eyes, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes as he fought back another wave of tears.

 

He’d been terrified then, terrified of losing Kirishima, terrified of being unable to escape the restaurant. Whenever he closed his eyes he could still hear the cries of others dying as orange and blue lights seemed to stain these fantasies. His shoulders shook in silent sobs.

 

He’d been uncertain of what he would have done should Kirishima not have emerged from the ordeal in good health. He’d been more concerned about Kirishima than himself, and yet, he’d clung to his future husband with such a fervor, with such a need for protection and reassurance, and even in the face of adversity, Kirishima had given it to him, even if he was also fearful.

 

Takafumi ordered that the rate of the water pouring down upon him increase, the shower illuminating a green in affirmation before pouring more warm water upon him. 

 

He finished the rest of his shower quickly, no longer wishing to dwell upon the notions of what could have happened within the restaurant. He quickly got dressed and strode into the livingroom, where Kirishima had turned on the television to the news.

 

He was sitting forward, a warm mug of coffee within his hands as he tiredly gazed at the screen. He hadn’t showered, though Takafumi supposed that it was his own fault. He took a seat next to him, unable to say a word. He knew not what to say; how to comfort Kirishima. 

 

Takafumi took the other man’s drink and set it upon the coffee table, soon pulling Kirishima against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him as he settled his chin upon the other man’s shoulder. Kirishima snuggled closer into Takafumi, hardly arguing with the contact. His own arms wrapped around Takafumi and they sat their tightly within each other’s embrace, hardly saying a word, simply sharing an experience.

 

“Are you alright?” Takafumi asked quietly, closing his eyes as he reveled within Kirishima’s warmth. It was far better than anything the shower’s warm water could have offered him.

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” came Kirishima’s muffled reply, though he slowly nodded. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m just… glad you made it out okay.”

 

They broke the embrace, still sitting close to one another as they regarded the television.

 

_ “An attack was staged by the Splinter group within a popular, local restaurant. The police have managed to calm down the situation, though the survivors are few and far in between. Splinter members have been arrested and are within Government custody for questioning. The amount of victims deceased and injured is still pending, though it is believed by now that most have not survived the attack. The Prime Minister will be making a statement about the attack soon.” _

The report chilled Takafumi, though he knew not how to reply to it. “Splinter group… I didn’t think they were real. I didn’t think that many people were against the Government? Killing innocents… no, that doesn’t advance their cause.”

 

Kirishima nodded tiredly, wrapping an arm around Takafumi, “I wonder what they wanted there. I mean, it’s a nice restaurant, don’t get me wrong, but they must have been looking for something.”

 

“Speculating won’t help.”

 

“You’re right.”

 

“Do you mind if I stay the night?”

 

“Can you stay in my bed, at least?”

 

Takafumi grunted, though was far too exhausted to complain. The pair needed the contact, needed each other after the events of the night. He nodded mutely, still gazing upon the television as it displayed images of the gruesome massacre that had transpired within the restaurant. Several images of those captured were displayed, though it seemed they hadn’t been able to apprehend the Splinter leader that had orchestrated the operation. 

 

He knew it was no good to contemplate and speculate, he’d said so moments before, yet Takafumi couldn’t help but wonder why they’d chosen _ that  _ establishment to terrorize over all of the others.


	13. Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takafumi and Kirishima have managed to put the situation beside them, or, at least not talk about the events that happened on their dinner date. With their Union confirmed and accepted by the Government, the pair work on building their family and marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about how long the update took! School has had me busy though I'm more free now so more updates, hopefully!

Kirishima and Takafumi had agreed not to report the incident to the police, nor come forth that they had been at the scene. They needn’t the chaos of investigation within Hiyori’s life, and had thus agreed not to involve themselves within the matter further. Though Takafumi could not shake the incident. When he closed his eyes, he saw the events and could hear the gunfire. He hadn’t slept easily since the event, only finding comfort in Kirishima’s company when it could be afforded to him.

 

Hiyori had been sent off to school the next morning and Takafumi sat upon the couch, cupping a mug betwixt his hands as he watched the news. They were still discussing the incident, though he could hardly blame them. Such attacks were unheard of in their society, there being little need for violence with all the mental rehabilitation clinics that dotted the nation. Nothing of the situation made sense. Takafumi couldn’t comprehend why they had shot a restaurant and why it was that they utilized such tactics. It was unnatural, it being far more logical to protest what the Government did peacefully rather than forcefully. It had cost civilian lives and Takafumi could not comprehend the allure of such a plan. Yet he was not with the Splinters, he had no way of knowing what they did. Though they wished to break away from the Government, it seemed more as if they were the enemy. Takafumi hadn’t any complaints with their nation, so he could not comprehend their unhappiness. There were far too many things in the scenario that he did not understand, and it unsettled him. Where would they target next? What if it was somewhere Hiyori and Kirishima were?

 

“You’re still watching that?” came Kirishima’s voice. He slid in next to Takafumi, draping an arm around his waist affectionately.

 

“It was.... Just on the channel,” replied Takafumi absentmindedly. He sipped his coffee stiffly. He needed to head to work soon, having already showered and changed at the Kirishimas’. His presence there had become such a norm, that he even kept a few sets of clothing within their home. Soon he would be more commonplace, moving in with them. They hadn’t agreed that Takafumi would be the one moving in, though there was no point in moving a girl from a home she was already comfortable with. Besides, Takafumi rather preferred their flat and the dynamic established than his own. His apartment carried too many memories he wished to forget.

 

“I see,” Kirishima pulled Takafumi so he leaned against him. His golden gaze was concentrated upon the screen, as well. He did not say a word, watching the program with the same seriousness Takafumi did. He ordered that the screen be shut off, and the automated system within the apartment responded. “Enough of that. When do you want to move in, have the ceremony? We’re already approved in our Union, so we’re basically married already, but I can’t be the only one that wants a ceremony.”

 

“I can move in here any time,” said Takafumi flatly. “My moving in doesn’t need to be an event, as for the ceremony, I’ll let you choose. I don’t care either way so long as it goes well. I only ask that it be small.”

 

Kirishima groaned, “I was hoping for a production!”

 

“Don’t even fucking try me.”

 

He laughed then and Takafumi avoided his gaze. He finished his coffee before worming his way out of Kirishima’s grip. “Well, I’m off,” he waved a hand towards Kirishima. It unsettled him how normal the routine had become, how normal it was to be around Kirishima when months ago he thought he’d never be able to move on from Masamune. Perhaps eventually he would be able to face the man without any fear, without any lingering regrets. The notion was attractive. Takafumi could only stare at Kirishima skeptically. He had been the cause of the change, there was no denying it and though he was regarding him with the dumbest smile Takafumi had ever seen, he couldn’t deny that there was something oddly charming about it, and that it stirred something within his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“Your hand!” Henmi, Takafumi’s underling, grabbed his boss’ hand with great concern. Takafumi hadn’t seen a point in missing work on account of an injury, though Henmi seemed so flustered by the wound that Takafumi felt as if he might as well have checked himself into a hospital. Henmi responded to it so dramatically, cradling his hand as if it were delicate. Takafumi had half a mind to smack him for the needless concern with the very hand he held. Yet he did not, pulling it away from Henmi’s grip. There was something clueless about his subordinate that he found endearing, yet the men’s energy levels were entirely different.

 

“Yes, yes, I cut myself while cooking, what about it?” Takafumi remembered the events of that night once again. They hadn’t left him. He wasn’t sure if  they would ever leave him. He closed his eyes, remembering Kirishima’s worried face and the tight grip he’d held on Takafumi. 

 

“Oh,” Henmi smiled then, slyly, with an unusual perceptiveness. “Was it for Mr. Kirishima?”

 

Takafumi sighed deeply. It was so embarrassing to be called out within such a fashion, that Takafumi had half a mind to tell Henmi the truth to spare the mortification of being looked at as if he were some sort of housewife. However, it was best to keep up with the lie, though that didn’t mean he had to adhere to his subordinate’s suggestion. “No, it was for his daughter.”

 

Henmi blinked at the other though smiled gently, as if elated by the notion that Takafumi could care for a child. He even paused looking at the holographic screen that emanated from his phone. The pair had been waiting for a contact outside of a building, hoping to boost sales through conversing with a magnate. It had been a stressful proposition, yet they had sent Takafumi because Takafumi was, irrefutably, the best salesman despite his unwelcoming yet attractive visage. Though it was nice to converse to pass the time, Takafumi was uncertain of whether or not he enjoyed the particular topic of conversation.

 

“Has your Union been approved--with Mr. Kirishima, I mean.”

 

“Does everyone know about it?”

“Kirishima was bragging.”

 

“Of course he was.”

 

Henmi laughed, to Takafumi’s embarrassment.

 

“But… yeah… it was…” Takafumi awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, peering into the street with a new interest. It was odd, to think he would be with Kirishima for the foreseeable eternity. It did not unsettle him, however, and thoughts of Masamune grew quieter and quieter until the man was nothing but a nightmare, a reminder of a time long passed. 

 

“Are you going to invite me to the ceremony?”

 

“Probably.”

 

Henmi’s face lit up at that, “whoa! Really?!”

 

Takafumi blushed deeply at his subordinate’s enthusiasm, relieved to see that their contact was arriving before Henmi could express his joy further. He motioned for Henmi to cease and desist whatever foolish statement he was about to say, soon plastering a polite smile to greet the magnate.

 

* * *

 

 

“Kirishima, what the fuck?”

 

It had been a long day at work. The deal with the magnate had been struck, though Takafumi hadn’t thought he’d return to his apartment to see men moving his things out, with Kirishima smoking a cigarette outside of his apartment as if it were nothing.

 

“You said any time works for you, right?”

 

“You could’ve given me time to get my shit together!”

 

“Not even all the time in the world could have given you that,” Kirishima replied with a grin.

 

“Why you little…” Takafumi grabbed Kirishima by the shirt, bringing their faces closer together.

 

“Now, now, we’re technically married now, honey! It’s not nice to abuse your husband.”

 

Takafumi let out an exasperated noise as he pushed Kirishima back. He placed his face within his own hands, sighing deeply and groaning loudly seconds later. Why had he agreed to marry someone so difficult? Why had he thought kind things about this man earlier? 

 

Takafumi hadn’t many things within his apartment, though paused suddenly. “Sorata,” he frowned. “My cat. What the fuck did you do with my cat?”

 

A sense of panic hit him then. If Kirishima had done anything with his cat, he was certain he would strangle the man. 

 

Kirishima smiled breezily, however, tapping ash from his cigarette while he spoke. “Don’t worry, Hiyo’s got him. Once I saw you had a cat, I drove him and his stuff back to my place. You didn’t tell me you had a cat, though, I didn’t know marrying you would involve a cat.”

 

“And you have a daughter. Most people don’t marry when someone already has kids from someone else.”

 

“And yet you accepted me and her. You’re very sweet, Takafumi, I could just kiss you right here…”

 

“Please don’t. I just had dinner and I don’t want to see it again.”

 

“Oh that’s harsh!”

 

Takafumi stood outside of his own apartment, before pressing his back against the railing outside of it as he watched the movers finish up their task. He wasn’t entirely certain about what to do with the furniture, though he figured Kirishma had already worked out the situation. As much as he hated to admit it, Kirishima was a thorough and competent individual. Takafumi could respect him, to a certain degree. He did not complain when Kirishima wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he did not complain when Kirishima pressed a kiss against his cheek. Though he grumbled, it was not the same as pushing the other away, and that in itself was an improvement.

  
The pair stood there, watching the last touches of boxes being packed and moved occur. Takafumi had the feeling that a chapter of his life had ended then, and that another one was about to begin.


End file.
